


4000 miles and 1000 dollars (are a small price for love)

by Arlene0401



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Character's Name Spelled as Hanji, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, German Eren Yeager, Hanji is mother hen for the college kid gang, Hospitals, Humor, Injury, Injury Recovery, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) is a Softie, Levi is involuntary wingman, M/M, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Slow Romance, Switching, background Levi/Hanji - Freeform, background Mikasa/Armin, background Ymir/Historia - Freeform, get your shit together Jean, lots of money spent on plane tickets, the Ackermans are the biggest Christmas loons ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9046880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: Jean's first year at college couldn't start worse - why does he have to babysit some stupid German student? Turns out the guy is illegally handsome and speaks with an adorable accent, and Jean isn't sure if that makes things better or even worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my SNK secret santa entry, gifted to lheonce!
> 
> I owe a lot of people thanks for their help and support. agent-2-6 (a26) for editing and Eren's final punchline, sammy-dean-pie (Fanbulance_Alert) for even more editing and input on American college life, and zedsdead1001 (Zeds_Dead) for Jean's ringtone :)

“Holy fuck, that smells delicious,” Levi announced as he came into the kitchen and fastened the cufflinks on his immaculate white shirt. He looked up, took in the number of places set at the table and stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“Good morning, honey!” Hanji grinned, handed him a mug of tea and kissed him on the cheek. Then, as if their husband wasn't rooted in the doorway with a rapidly deepening frown, they swirled over to the stove and continued stirring something in a large pan.

 

“Hanji.”

 

“Yes, honey?” they chirped innocently.

 

“What army are you expecting to come rolling in for breakfast?”

 

Before they could answer, Mikasa squeezed past him. “Morning, uncle Levi.” She pecked him on the cheek and went over to hug Hanji. “Good morning, auncle Hanji. That smells so good, I'm starving. But you shouldn't have set the table all alone. Tomorrow, let me help.”

 

“That’s all right, Kasa, the next weeks will be demanding for you. You're welcome to help, but don't force it.”

 

Mikasa shrugged with a sweet smile, poured herself a coffee and took a seat at the food-laden table. Hanji slid an omelette with mushrooms, onions and tomatoes onto her plate.

 

“Here, get started before it gets cold. The boys should better come eat, too.” 

 

“Armin will be ready in a minute.”

 

Levi whirled around just in time to see a blond boy coming down the hallway. He tugged some stray strands into his messy hair bun, straightened his glasses and beamed at Levi.

 

“Good morning, Professor Ackerman. Lovely day for semester start, isn't it?” He tried to slink past the older man but got snatched by the collar.

 

Levi’s face was dangerous. “Did you just come out of my niece's bedroom?”

 

“Calm down, uncle Levi, we're both legal.” Mikasa sounded bored. Armin’s eyes shot frantically to her and then back to the looming menace in front of him.

 

“I, um…”

 

“Leave the kid alone, honey, or do I need to remind you I took your virginity at sixteen,” Hanji drawled with a smirk. Then they stomped their heel on the old wooden floor a couple of times. “Eren! Breakfast is ready!”

 

Levi let go of Armin’s collar, and the teen gratefully scrambled to safety by Mikasa’s side.

 

“Not Eren, too?”

 

“Of course Eren too, honey, what did you think? Should we let him starve?”

 

“Hanji. The kid has a fully equipped apartment downstairs. He can take care of himself.”

 

“You want the poor kid to start his first day at college with dry cereal and Nescafé, all alone?”

 

“I agreed with Dr. Jaeger to let him live in the downstairs apartment so the brat learns some self-reliance. He’s spoilt rotten and a fucking mess. He won't achieve anything if you mother him.”

 

“The poor thing came all the way from Europe to study here just last week, can you imagine how lonely he must feel? He must be totally heartbroken, honey, we need to take care of him.”

 

The ‘totally heartbroken poor thing’ chose this exact moment to come in, wearing yesterday’s clothes and an easy grin. “Morning! How’s everybody? Hanji, I swear you're getting more beautiful by the day.”

 

Levi threw his arms up in defeat. “Why, oh why, dear Lord, can’t my spouse feed stray cats like everybody else. No, they have to feed fucking stray children. I shall go forth and dismantle the front door, or better still build a revolving door. Put up an illuminated sign…’Open house! Free meals and beds for everyone!’”

 

A slender hand on his arm stopped his ranting, and he blinked, finding himself in the beam of Mikasa's doe eyes. “Uncle Levi. I’m so grateful that you and auncle Hanji took me in to live with you.” Oh, screw him. The girl wasn't playing fair. He was all but putty in her hands and she fucking knew it.

 

“Well of course, Mikasa, you're family. You don’t ever have to thank us,” he replied, patting her hand awkwardly.

 

“I’m so glad you took me in, too,” Eren chimed in, all timid smiles. Levi scowled again. Hanji had met Dr. Jaeger on an international conference many years ago, been friends with him ever since and was delighted to offer help when his son had decided to study abroad. Asking Levi for his approval had been more of an afterthought when the kid had already arrived at the airport. 

 

Levi didn't really mind the young faces around him. He did sometimes have to wallow in self pity and proclaim that nobody ever listened to him and that he was treated poorly. Being accustomed to it, Hanji and Mikasa payed his tirades little attention. Armin, Mikasa’s childhood friend and recently more than a friend, was usually kind-hearted and more easily moved, but right now busy frowning into his omelette and chewing his lip more than his food. Eren however, Hanji’s latest addition to the household, seemed in constant terror that Levi would kick him out at the slightest misbehavior.

 

Ranting would be a lot more fun with Eren around.

 

Levi glanced at his watch. “You lot better get moving, you don't want to be late on your first day.” 

 

Eren promptly leaped out of his seat as if burned and raced downstairs to noisily grab for shoes, jacket, bag and keys and drop everything at least three times in the process. Mikasa, however, stretched languidly and winked at her uncle.

 

“We’re not running late if we make it before you.”

 

“As you may remember, Mikasa, I’m head of humanities faculty and neither biology nor literature. And as a historian, I tend to treat temporal concepts differently.”

 

“Man, I should have enrolled for archeology,” Mikasa grinned and collected her long limbs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Hanji, that was a terrific starter.” With some polite thanks, Armin followed her to collect his stuff.

 

Hanging behind were two adults and a culinary battlefield.

 

Levi folded his newspaper and regarded Hanji over the rim of his mug. “So?”

 

Hanji shrugged. “I don’t know, it feels so weird. College students, can you imagine? They grow up so fast. I still see Mikasa in those oversized hand-me-downs and Armin with that terrible haircut his grandfather always bestowed on him. It doesn’t seem right - they still feel like children to me.” Their eyes shimmered a little and they fruitlessly dragged a wet rag around the sink.

 

“I know. Hey. Come here.” Levi put a warm hand on their shoulder, and Hanji quickly turned around to let themselves be hugged. The pair had never had children of their own, but there was Mikasa. Her relation to Levi was in fact a little obscure and around ten corners, but he had still been her closest relative when her parents passed away. For simplicity’s sake, they had come to call the girl their niece. They had raised her from the age of ten, and loved her as if she was their own. And Armin… somehow he’d always been around, so much he could be called an honorary Ackerman. 

 

Now they were nearly ready to spread their wings. Only a few more precious college years, and then they would be gone to lead their own lives. Levi understood very well Hanji’s urge to fuss over them a little longer. 

 

With a sigh, he rolled his shirt sleeves up. “Come on. Let’s get this kitchen cleared.”

 

“But don’t you have to head to work too? I only need to be at the institute by ten, so I could do this alone.” Hanji worked in pharmaceutical research.

 

Levi smiled. “One of the perks of being the boss is that no one dares to question when you clock in. Pass me the towel, will you?”

 

***********************

 

Jean was waiting in front of the faculty and getting more and more pissed by the minute. Not only had he let himself be obligated by Mikasa and Armin to babysit this foreign student because he had the same major. No, they were also running late on him. Why did he even need to usher this idiot around? He was new to the campus himself. And from someone who studied English literature you could expect the comprehensive skills to make do on his own, couldn’t you? But no, they had insisted this dimwit had to have an assistant. And since they were conveniently stuck in their fucking marine biology courses on the opposite side of campus, they had decided Jean was the candidate.

 

His cell phone blared ‘ _ the girl who loved the monsters _ ’ at him, and he angrily snatched it from his pocket.

 

“ _ What _ .”

 

“Good morning to you too,” was Mikasa’s reply. “Hey Jean, I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time, so we just dropped Eren off and went to our faculty. He should be there any minute.”

 

“So you don’t even have the decency to make introductions? What should I be looking for, some fucking hun with a beard down to his knees and half a  _ bratwurst  _ hanging out of his mouth?”

 

Mikasa made a petite pause. “Actually, Eren’s quite pretty. You should…”

 

“Oh, so he’s pretty? Doesn’t your boyfriend mind that some looker is living under the same roof as you?”

 

“Oh, her boyfriend seems to have sensed I’m a nice guy,” a voice said behind Jean’s back. He whirled around, phone clutched to his ear.

 

“He could also be assured by the fact that I’m too gay to chase after skirts. Unless,” green eyes mockingly raked over Jean’s frame, “there’s some tasty  _ male  _ legs underneath.”

 

Mikasa's voice still warbled in his ear, but Jean didn't pay any attention to it. His head was a fucking tumult of conflicting emotions, anger and embarrassment battling for dominance and knocking over the furniture and setting the carpet on fire in the process, while confusion and arousal threw in unhelpful comments like: “Fuck, he’s hot.” and “He doesn't look German at all.”

 

Suddenly he became aware that he was standing there with a now silent phone pressed to his ear and working his mouth around syllables that wouldn't leave it. While this bastard had the nerve to nonchalantly cross his arms and cock his eyebrows.

 

“Didn't your momma teach you any manners? You always go around eavesdropping on strangers?”

 

“Only when they neigh so loudly I can't ignore it.”

 

Neigh?  _ Neigh _ ? Oh, after five minutes and about as many sentences he was already prodding at Jean’s one very weak spot. Jean flushed so red he looked like he was going to go through the roof any moment.

 

“Anyway, I’m Eren. Pleased to meet you. Apologies… for the eavesdropping. And for forgetting my  _ bratwurst  _ back home.”

 

Jean regarded the hand that was outstretched in his direction in distaste, but any snide remark (that, honestly, he would probably need a couple of hours and beers to come up with, anyway) was cut off by the college clock solemny announcing the full hour.

 

“Fuck.” He grabbed Eren's sleeve and dragged him towards the entrance. “We'll be late, come on.” They raced through the wide entrance, bumped into each other in the hallway when they decided for opposite directions, headed right, skidded to a halt and ran up the stairs.

 

“I thought you were supposed to lead me around?”

 

“Fuck off, I’m new here myself!”

 

They crawled into the lecture hall five minutes late, got noticed and called out by the professor and kept under his thumb for the complete period. Still, they both managed to make Mikasa’s phone vibrate repeatedly.

 

‘If your friend here is any example for the rest of your friends, I’m not sure if I want to meet them. - Eren’

 

‘What in the name of mercy has possessed you to team me up with this oaf? - Jean’

 

‘OMG he thinks George Eliot was a man I'm dying - Eren’ 

 

‘wtf he hates Emerson Is2g - Jean’

 

Mikasa rolled her eyes at Armin and switched off her phone.

 

****************************************

 

Eren slammed down his tray opposite from Mikasa and slumped in his chair with a huff.

 

“Hi Eren, how was your first morning? This is Ymir and Historia, they are both with us in biological oceano…”

 

Jean’s tray hit the table with enough force to see his orange juice splosh all over Armin’s sleeve. Eren glared at the intruder.

 

“You’ve been griping and bitching at me all morning, why would you sit with me at lunchtime?”

 

“I’m not sitting with you, I’m sitting with  _ my _ friends, you stuck-up git,” Jean spat back.

 

“Tough luck for you then, ‘cause they’re my friends as well.”

 

“Friends,” Jean scoffed, “how long have you known them, a week?”

 

“I’ve known Mikasa’s family since I was a toddler,” Eren replied stiffly.

 

“Yeah, that would make about a week all right.”

 

Mikasa leaned on Armin’s shoulder. “Do you think what I think?”

 

Armin nodded. “Wedding bells.”

 

“I just hope I’m not in the vicinity of their first hatefuck.”

 

He kissed the top of her head. “You can flee and come over any time.” He craned his neck to gauge Ymir’s and Historia’s reactions, but he needn’t have worried. Historia had propped her chin on her hands and followed the argument like a tennis match spectator, and Ymir unhurriedly licked pudding off her spoon. She caught Armin’s gaze.

 

“Who do ya think is gonna top?”

 

Armin thought about it for a moment. “Jean.”

 

She snorted. “The horse face man? I’ve got five dollars here that say little green eyes is gonna wreck him.” She slapped a note on the table. Armin narrowed his eyes.

 

“Challenge accepted.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jean caught a glimpse of the transaction. “Armin. What are you doing there?”

 

“Oh, so you do realize we’re here.” Armin finished swapping notes with Ymir and grinned. “May I make introductions? Historia and Ymir, they’re both in biological oceanography like us.” He turned to the girls. “Eren and Jean, English literature majors.”

 

“Dear Lord, I don’t envy you,” Historia said with round eyes. “I always fell asleep on literature. I already dread the technical and professional writing courses we have to take.” She gave Armin a side eye. “Well, some of us, anyway. Those who didn’t ace at enrolling.”

 

“Oh, I can give you a hand with that if you want to,” Eren beamed at her. “Believe me, technical and professional writing can be so much fun.”

 

“Really?” She looked sceptical.

 

“Of course! Depending on what you are planning to do in your field, there are so many different options. Professional writing isn’t professional writing. You can write a report on your research results, an article for a scientific magazine, an article for a popular magazine. A book. A documentary script. Educational texts. Museum guides. Children’s books. It’s fascinating! You see all those… sharks and whales and wobbly squishy things out there and you can bring them all to life in the reader’s mind!”

 

Eren spoke animatedly, eyes shining, hands gesturing wildly, unconcerned by the cutlery he was still holding. Something in Jean crumbled and melted a little. They certainly had had a rough start, but if he was brutally honest it hadn’t really been Eren’s fault - Jean had been pissed and lashed out at him because he was the next available person. Plus, Eren wasn’t at all what Jean had expected. He was tan and brunet, and while his accent was certainly noticeable it sounded unsettlingly nice. Sometimes he’d botch grammar or fumble for a word. He pronounced vowels a little differently and rolled the r’s on the back of his tongue, while at the same time he tended to swallow r’s at word endings. But all in all it was strangely melodious, and Jean found that maybe, just maybe he could get used to listening to Eren… if he wasn’t spewing venom in his direction, that was.

 

His eyes involuntarily dropped to Eren's lips, watched them forming words, and he idly wondered if he’d look and sound different speaking in his native tongue. Jean himself had learned French, and although he probably could hold a simple conversation he was far from fluent. He couldn't even start to imagine what it would be like to speak a language that wasn't his own day in and day out, for months and years.

 

_ Maybe he falls back to German in bed. In the throes of passion, crying out and digging his fingernails into - _

 

“What are you staring at?” Eren sounded more tired than annoyed, and Jean flushed beet red as he was brutally snapped out of his thoughts.

 

“I just… your English is pretty good.”

 

Mikasa coughed to hide a giggle, and Eren gave him a pitiful look.

 

“No shit. I wouldn't be able to study abroad if it wasn’t.”

 

“No really, why did you decide to study English literature?”

 

“Well, I happen to like it.” He smiled (and fuck did Eren's smile directed at him do things to his stomach and other regions) and continued: “Really. I grew up on a diet of German literature - nation of poets and thinkers, mind you, and at school we only ever read works that were originally written in German. Never anything that was translated. That was left to our free time and leisure reading. Then, when our language skills were advanced enough, we started reading English literature. And again, only original works, nothing translated. So I kind of grew up assuming that translation was literary inferior. Until in some second hand book shop I came across an English copy of ‘William Tell’ by Friedrich Schiller. And it absolutely  _ floored  _ me.”

 

His eyes lidded as he recollected the verses.

 

_ “Through this ravine he needs must come. There is _

_ No other way to Kussnacht. Here I'll do it! _

_ The ground is everything I could desire. _

_ Yon elder bush will hide me from his view, _

_ And from that point my shaft is sure to hit. _

_ The straitness of the gorge forbids pursuit. _

_ Now, Gessler, balance thine account with Heaven! _

_ Thou must away from earth,—thy sand is run. _

_ Quiet and harmless was the life I led, _

_ My bow was bent on forest game alone; _

_ No thoughts of murder rested on my soul. _

_ But thou hast scared me from my dream of peace; _

_ The milk of human kindness thou hast turn'd _

_ To rankling poison in my breast; and made _

_ Appalling deeds familiar to my soul. _

_ He who could make his own child's head his mark, _

_ Can speed his arrow to his foeman's heart. _

_ My boys, poor innocents, my loyal wife, _

_ Must be protected, tyrant, from thy rage! _

_ When last I drew my bow—with trembling hand— _

_ And thou, with fiendishly remorseless glee _

_ Forced me to level at my own boy's head, _

_ When I, imploring pity, writhed before thee, _

_ Then in the anguish of my soul, I vow'd _

_ A fearful oath, which met God's ear alone, _

_ That when my bow next wing'd an arrow's flight, _

_ Its aim should be thy heart. The vow I made, _

_ Amid the hellish torments of that moment, _

_ I hold a sacred debt, and I will pay it.” _

 

“I thought it would be just another word-for-word transcription for school purposes, you know? But this was more than just a translation. This was a work of art. And then it occurred to me that it might indeed be possible to communicate the genius of one language to another. And that´s what I want to do. Spreading the words. Spreading the love for words.”

 

He fell silent again and, becoming aware of the rapt attention the others were paying to him, blushed. “I - I know that isn't a noble cause like you guys saving the whales with science and raising awareness on global warming.”

 

Ymir laughed. “I’ll tell you what, gorgeous. I’m only in this for Her Majesty here. If she’d decided on a career in pole dancing, or professional wrestling, I wouldn't be here. So much for your noble causes.”

 

They all mulled that over for a moment, until Armin broke the silence. “You can still combine careers, Historia. I hear they're always short on centerfolds in the ‘Plankton Monthly’.

 

*************************************

 

Levi got used to coming home and never knowing how many cars were going to be piled in his driveway. The amount of college students in his place varied from zero to ten, although more often than not everybody seemed to crash at the Ackerman place. Unlike most of the others, who - like Mikasa - only had a room to themselves or slept in the dorms, Eren called a modest apartment his own, with the additional perk of Hanji's room service. Left on his own, Eren was content with pot noodles and instant coffee, both made with hot water from the tab and Hanji just wouldn’t have that. Whoever showed up, got fed. And college students have an in-built radar for free food. So apart from Mikasa and Eren, and Armin who stayed over most nights, many evenings faced the additional company of Ymir and Historia, Jean, and any number of other biology and literature majors.

 

“Aren't you getting tired of cooking for this unthankful bunch of little trolls?”, he asked Hanji one evening, stretched comfortably on the sofa with a book and a brandy and listening to the ruckus downstairs.

 

“Ungrateful? That little brunette, Sasha, wrote an ode to my mashed potato.” They smiled and hummed softly while busying themselves with the laundry basket.

 

“What are you doing there, anyway?”

 

“Sorting socks.”

 

“Hmm.” He lay his book aside and eyed the amount of socks in varying shades of black and grey critically. “These are way too big to be mine and Kasa doesn’t wear black socks. Neither do you.”

 

Hanji simply continued humming, completely absorbed.

 

“You're doing Eren’s laundry?”

 

“You see, a while ago I caught him putting his laundry into the machine and he had just spilled any sort of bleach and washing powder into the drawer and nearly set the fire alarm off. Not to mention what his jeans would have looked like afterwards.”

 

He gave Hanji a hard stare. “I could ask you if you tidy up his place when I'm gone but I think I already know the answer.”

 

They smiled sheepishly.

 

“The kid’s gonna be completely useless, you know that?”

 

“I think he's what the kids call a hot mess.”

 

He sighed and picked up his book again. “Dr. Jaeger is your friend, so I’ll leave it up to you to explain why his son will return without ever having had to cook his own meals.”

 

**********************************************

 

Eren slapped the notepad down in frustration. “Dammit, why is working with you always so difficult? You disagree with everything I say out of principle.”

 

“Not on principle. You’re only wrong about Edmund Spenser, he’s totally overrated.”

 

“You’d say the same about Charles Dickens himself if I told you I admired him.”

 

Jean ran a hand through his hair. “No I wouldn’t, you -”

 

“You have a terrible way of wooing me, you know.”

 

“I’m what?”

 

“Wooing me.” Eren smirked.

 

“Don’t get ahead of… how did you  _ get _ this idea?”

 

“Mikasa told me.”

 

Jean gaped.

 

“She says you always behave like this when you like someone.” Eren doodled on his notepad, avoiding Jean’s gaze.

 

“Well, what  _ do _ I behave like?”

 

“Like an idiot.” Seemingly satisfied with his doodle, Eren looked up again. “It’s kind of cute, really, but also a little tiring. So I’ll cut straight to the core. I’m okay with you liking me.”

 

Jean leaned his knees on his elbows and stared at the space between. “Wow. That sounds… terribly underwhelmed.”

 

“Oh, am I not smitten enough for your ego?”

 

“Well, it would help if you were a little more enthusiastic about it.”

 

Eren’s hand reached for the back of his neck, fingertips grazing over the buzz of his short hair there. “You can kiss me if you want to. Let’s see if you manage to make me more… enthusiastic.”

 

It was a challenge, of course, and Jean wasn’t one to back down from one, no matter how stupid. And if the challenge was to get Eren just as stupidly infatuated as he was himself he’d do everything in his power.

 

They were sitting side by side on Eren’s bed, backs against the wall and legs comfortably stretched out. Jean flung his folder across the room, grabbed Eren’s notebook and let it follow. Then he kneeled between the brunet’s legs and loomed close.

 

“You bastard. I’ll kiss that smug look right off your face.” With that, he dove right in, felt Eren’s lips curve into a smile under his own. They were surprisingly soft and warm and opened without hesitation to his probing tongue. Eren seemed content playing with the hair at the back of his head and letting him lead and dominate the kiss. 

 

At any other time, with any other person, Jean might have been perfectly happy to just indulge in kissing leisurely and languidly, but now he was a man on a mission - and this mission was nothing less than driving Eren completely crazy. At the same time, focusing on not losing his own mind, finally being this close, being able to feel and taste and breathe Eren.

 

He pressed close, his mouth hungry and demanding, and took Eren’s pleased little noises as cue to let his hands roam as well, and that was how, as his fingers skimmed the side of Eren’s neck, he noticed his breath hitch.

 

He pulled back and smirked. “Oh, am I onto something here?”

 

“Shut the fuck u- gah!” Jean’s lips had latched on his neck, seeking out every weak spot. He licked and sucked at the tender skin and relished in every little sigh and hiss he pulled from the brunet. After one last nibble to the pulse point, he took in Eren’s appearance and was not disappointed. The flushed face, dark eyes and kiss swollen lips formed an image that went straight to his crotch.

 

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself. “Can you say something in German?”

 

Eren’s expression morphed from aroused to puzzled to amused. “Why, is that something that turns you on?”

 

Jean bit his lip. “No. It’s just… something I wanted to confirm for myself.”

 

“Okay,” Eren replied with a tiny smile. “Let me think… oh, right.”

 

_ “Verzage nicht, weil sie mit kalter Brust _

_ Verharret in empörerischem Sträuben; _

_ Solch Liebe ist nicht gleich der niedern Lust, _

_ Wenn schwer erreicht, wird sie so fester bleiben. _

_ Die feste Eiche, deren Saft im Treiben, _

_ Braucht lang', eh ihr sie könnt zum Brennen bringen. _

_ Doch brennt sie, wird sie grosse Hitze treiben, _

_ Und hoch die Flamme gegen Himmel schwingen. _

_ So schwer ist's, neu Verlangen anzuzünden _

_ In zarter Brust, das ewig hin soll brennen; _

_ Tief sind die Wunden, die ins Inn're dringen, _

_ Mit keuscher Neigung, die nur Tod soll trennen. _

_ Darum bedenke nicht die kleine Pein, _

_ Den Bund zu schliessen, der soll ewig seyn.” _

 

The words rolled off his tongue smoothly and effortlessly, and although Jean didn’t understand a word the rhythm indicated some kind of poem. And he had been right, something about Eren was different, not just the language itself that sounded so unlike English, but something unfathomable in his voice and face and demeanor. It felt like getting a new glimpse at him, at other facets of his being that had been hidden from the eye.

 

“That was beautiful. Was that a poem?”

 

“Yeah.” Eren’s smile slowly transformed into a shit-eating grin. “It was ‘sonnet 6’ by Edmund Spenser.”

 

Jean stared down at him in disbelief. “You’re shitting me.”

 

“Ah-ah. No, sir-ee.”

 

“You fucking cheeky little -”

 

Without any warning, Eren pushed at Jean’s chest, sending him toppling over on his back, and followed suit to straddle him.

 

“You wanted me less underwhelmed, right? Now show me if you can handle the Jaeger unleashed.”

 

********************************

 

“Armin. Pssst. Hey, Armin?”

 

“Whassup?” Armin groaned from underneath the pile of pillows he had buried his head in.

 

“Armin, please, let’s go to your place.”

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Half past one.”

 

“They’ll be done soon. I mean, how much longer can they possibly keep that up? Either way, I’m  _ not _ changing and then driving to my place in the middle of the night.”

 

Another throaty cry vibrated through the floor.

 

“Armin,  _ please _ !”

 

“Go find some earplugs.” He pulled one more pillow over his face.

 

*************************************

 

“Hanji, I’m telling you, this isn’t normal. It’s inhuman. Either they have experimented with illegal substances or they are running a porn tape on endless repeat.”

 

“Just because  _ you _ can’t go more often than twice in one night doesn’t mean they can’t. They are young, healthy men full of raging hormones.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s been, how many times? I’ve lost count after five.”

 

“Honey, you can either decide to ignore them and sleep or,” they turned around to face Levi and ran a fingernail down his sternum, “we follow their example and -”

 

“Oh fuck, no. There’s images in my head now that have killed my boner right into next year.”

 

*************************

 

Mortification settled in Jean’s chest when he woke up to an unfamiliar alarm and an elbow in his face. He must have passed out at some point and slept through the remainder of the night.

 

He had no toothbrush on him, nor spare clothes and as a glance at the clock confirmed, no time to race home across town to shower and change there.

 

“Oh Lord, I'm so fucked,” he muttered.

 

“You don’t say,” Eren yawned and stretched. Jean glared at him and explained the clothes and hygiene problematics.

 

“Man, if that's all you worry about…” Scratching his chest, Eren got up, fumbled through his dresser drawers and tossed some clothing items at him. “Here, we have about similar size, that should do. About a toothbrush, you can ask Levi.”

 

Jean felt like doused in cold water. “Are you shitting me? I should go up to Professor Ackerman, historian and dean of the humanities faculty, and casually ask him for a toothbrush because ‘yo man, I fell asleep banging the guy that lives in your basement’?”

 

Eren rolled his eyes and came over to plant a morning breath kiss on his cheek. “No need to be so uptight. Levi’s cool. Now, you wanna shower or what?”

 

Some considerable amount of time later, Eren dragged a resisting Jean upstairs for breakfast.

 

“Fuck, they’ll figure out what happened. I mean we’ll have to tell everybody sooner or later, but don’t you think -”

 

He broke off as they entered the kitchen and found the Ackermans and Armin, in varying degrees of sleep deprivation, around the table.

 

“We already know, Jean,” Mikasa said in a sepulchral voice. “We  _ all _ fucking know.”

 

“In vivid detail.” Hanji had their forehead buried in their hands.

 

“I’m scarred for life,” Armin mumbled into his coffee.

 

Levi, with dark shadows under the eyes, only huffed and spooned more sugar into his tea mug.

 

Armin’s phone chirped, and he smiled thinly. “Ymir’s cussing ‘cause she owes me five dollars.”

 

Needless to say, it was one of the most awkward meals any of them ever had.

 

**********

 

After that, Jean and Eren showed a little more reticence. Most of the time. Well, occasionally. As much as the energy between them allowed, anyway. They still bitched and bickered in thinly veiled attempts to rile each other up, and more often than not it ended with them making out behind a corner or tearing their clothes off.

 

Jean loved the way Eren could make his blood boil like no one else could, both in annoyance and in arousal. He loved how competitive they were, spurring each other on. He loved the mischievous glint in Eren’s eye that said,  _ come over here and make me _ (alternatively:  _ come over here and make me stop _ ), he loved teasing him until Eren couldn’t take it anymore and straight out wrecked him.

 

However, what he loved most, but would rather cut his own arm off than admit it, were the precious tender and quiet moments. When they actually worked on an assignment instead of using it as an excuse to mock each other, he’d watch the way Eren’s bangs fell in his face and he chewed on his pen in thought. When Eren would wrap his arms around Jean and kiss his forehead when he thought he was asleep. How his eyes lit up when he talked about things that fascinated him.

 

Eren had gotten under his skin, was weaving his way right into his heart and dreams, and Jean cursed himself at being unable to show his affection. He wasn’t even sure what they were - fuck buddies, friends with benefits, dating? They didn’t go on dates and never did any couple things, just continued what they had done before and added the sex. Maybe Eren was just like him waiting for some sign that they were more. Maybe he would laugh at Jean spilling his beans and embarrassing himself. The way they worked - never showing any weaknesses, was so ingrained in him that he couldn’t bring himself to take the next step.

 

Mikasa and Armin were just about done with his fretting. “Just fucking confess to him already,“ Mikasa barked at him one day. “He won’t reject you, and even in the unlikely case that he would, he’d do it nicely. So either get your shit together and do it, or just go with the flow as it is, but in any case stop whining to us.”

 

Jean was still in the process of working up the nerves, because his heart was starting to ache with everything he was holding back, when in late November Eren got a phone call from home.

 

It rang as they were just heading to ‘Introduction to children’s literature’. Eren frowned when he saw the caller ID. “That’s weird, my dad wouldn’t normally call me this time of day.” He excused himself and told Jean to go ahead.

 

Jean went to class, but couldn’t shake the flurry that had settled in his guts when seeing Eren’s uneasiness. When twenty minutes later Eren still hadn’t shown up, he claimed to feel ill and left. It didn’t take long to spot Eren - he was sitting on the front stairs to the building, right where Jean had left him, still clutching his phone.

 

“Hey,” Jean addressed him quietly, and when Eren turned around to face him, Jean was startled to see him so pale and distraught. The knuckles of his hands were white with how tightly he was holding on to his phone.

 

“What happened?” Jean moved a step closer, unsure whether Eren wanted him around for comfort or not.

 

“My mother had a car accident. She has multiple fractures and head injuries. They brought her into an intensive care unit. She’s comatose.” Eren’s voice sounded hollow and robotic, recounting the facts. It was obvious he was in emotional shock.

 

“So, what happens now? What are you going to do?”

 

Eren stared at him with a blank face, and Jean realized he wasn’t able to function just now. Making a decision, he bent down and tugged on Eren’s hand.

 

“Come on. Get up. Come with me.”

 

Eren obliged, allowing himself to be led along. Jean made his way through the campus, over to the humanities faculty buildings. Eren was so dazed he didn’t even ask where they were going, and Jean grew more worried by the minute.

 

Levi’s secretary looked astonished as they whizzed into her office. 

 

“We need to speak to Professor Ackerman,” Jean panted.

 

“I’m sorry, but you will need to make an appointment -”

 

“No. Now. We need to see him  _ now _ . It’s an emergency.”

 

The young woman stiffened at his tone. “You cannot just barge in here and demand to see the Dean just like that -”

 

“This guy here,” Jean interrupted her and pointed at Eren, “is currently living in Professor Ackerman’s household, and an emergency situation came up in his family. We don’t have time for any of this bullshit.”

 

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Levi stood in the now open doorway to his office, arms crossed, looking more petrifying than ever.

 

“Sir, these students just -”

 

“Eren’s mother had an accident,” Jean cut in.

 

Levi regarded them silently for a moment, assessing the situation. His eyes flitted over Eren’s blank, white face and trembling lips, the arm that Jean had protectively slung over his shoulder.

 

“Is it… serious?”

 

Jean nodded.

 

“Alright then.” Levi vanished in his office again, only to emerge some moments later with his briefcase, and a coat draped over his arm. “Petra, please cancel all appointments for today.”

 

He breezed past his bewildered secretary, Jean and Eren hot on his heels. Out in the car park, he tossed his car keys at Jean. “Here, you can drive. I’ll check for flights.” His gaze softened as he looked at Eren, and he reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll get you home.”

 

Levi settled in the back seat and started typing furiously on his BlackBerry. By the time Jean parked the car in front of the Ackerman home, he had already booked a direct flight to Frankfurt, which was the nearest airport to Eren’s home town. It was to take off in the afternoon, which left them plenty of time for packing. There would have been an earlier flight via London, he explained to Jean, but… he didn’t finish the sentence, casting a worried glance at Eren, and Jean understood. In his current state, they didn’t know if Eren would manage to change planes. Then he texted Dr. Jaeger to inform him that Eren would arrive the next morning at 6:20.

 

They ushered Eren into his apartment, but instead of packing he stood forlorn in the bedroom, picking up items and turning them aimlessly in his hands. Jean exchanged a glance with Levi, then hauled a suitcase from the closet and put it on the bed.

 

“Okay, Eren, where’s your sweaters? Let’s start with those. Thank you. Next, jeans. Good.”

 

Following his orders one by one, the brunet seemed to be able to shake off his brooding a little and rummaged through drawers and shelves. When they were finished and snapped the locks of the suitcase shut, he even hunted down his passport, money and phone charger.

 

“Professors,” he muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“Professors. I need to ask them for leave.” He pulled out his phone and then stared at it as if he’d forgotten what to do with it.

 

“It’s okay, Eren. I’m sure Levi will be happy to speak to them. I’ll give him a list of your classes.”

 

Eren turned that over in his mind for a minute, then nodded and swallowed.

 

“Hey.” Jean pulled him into his arms. “Come here. Let us help you. All you need to think of now is your family.”

 

They leaned against each other, and Jean allowed himself to enjoy the warmth for a moment, Eren’s heartbeat against his own, the clean smell of his hair in his nose, until with a pang of guilt he remembered why they were holding each other. This wasn’t for him, but for Eren’s comfort.

 

Levi knocked softly on the door frame. “Are you done? I fixed us some tea.”

 

Upstairs, they drank their tea mostly in silence. Levi busied himself in notifying Eren’s professors about his absence, and as expected was only met with approval. For the time being he left open when Eren would return. A week, two weeks, two months - who knew how Carla’s recovery would proceed.

 

_ If _ there was a recovery, a question that no one dared voice, but which hung heavy over the table nonetheless.

 

Without thinking, Jean had taken Eren’s hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into the back with his thumb. 

 

“Okay, that’s that,” Levi finally sighed. “What we'll do about any tests or midterms you may miss, we'll figure out later. Most of them are done now anyway, right? For the time being, I don't want you to worry about college. It will all be sorted out. You're a good student, Eren. You'll be fine.” He glanced at his watch. “We should get going.”

 

The drive out to the airport was thankfully uneventful, but Jean could feel Eren tense up nevertheless. When they had arrived and he dragged his suitcase from the trunk, he suddenly looked alarmed. “I didn't even say farewell to Mikasa and Hanji!”

 

“Eren, it's not like you’re gone forever. They will understand. And soon you'll be back and see them again.” Levi’s voice was warm and reassuring. He led them through the terminal to the check-in, patiently assisted Eren with the formalities, while Jean trailed them with Eren’s bag and felt a little useless. But as soon as they had arrived at the security area and had to part, and Levi had hugged Eren goodbye a little awkwardly and stood to the side, Eren latched onto Jean and squeezed him as if they'd never meet again.

 

It was a little embarrassing, hugging tight amidst the milling crowds and getting side eyes, but Jean found that the whole town could stand around jeering and he couldn't care less.

 

“Call me when you're there,” he muttered into Eren’s hair. “And call me whenever you need someone to talk. No matter the time. I’m there for you, okay? You don't have to do this alone.”

 

Eren pulled back, mouth opening as if he was about to say something, but after some deliberation all that came out was a small: “Thank you.”

 

“Okay. Off you go. Have a safe trip.” Jean pulled his face into something that he hoped resembled a reassuring smile.

 

They waited until Eren was through security, and out of sight. Then Levi turned and headed back to the car park. “You two are fucking idiots,” he remarked over his shoulder.

 

“What?”

 

“Everyone can see that you're head over heels for each other. Why don't you stop acting as if you're not? Is this some weird fragile masculinity thing?” He pushed through the doors and lit a cigarette, something Jean had never seen him do. “You know, once in a blue moon when you two aren't squabbling like toddlers you make a really cute couple. You are good for each other. Don't let it go to waste in some stupid contest about whoever is most unaffected. And I’ll tell you what,” he jabbed Jean’s chest with his forefinger, “right now, Eren needs you. No matter what he says. Don't fuck this up or I’ll make you regret the day you were born.”

 

“He’ll have his father and family over there, and certainly still has friends,” Jean replied, a little defensively.

 

Levi snorted. “His friends I can't vouch for, but I'll tell you one thing I have picked up about Grisha. He ain't worth shit without Carla. He’s only the shell of a man. So instead of Eren being able to fall back on him, it will probably be the other way round. So let me repeat, he fucking needs you. I don't want to see the kid go to the dogs.” He finished his cigarette while Jean tried to process his words.

 

“Oh my god. You have have everybody scared shitless of you when inside you're actually all soft and fuzzy,” he marvelled.

 

Levi scowled. “I’m not. I'm just trying to do what's right with a student who’s in my care.”

 

Jean grinned. “Soft and fuzzy,” he repeated.

 

“Listen up, Kirstein, if you let on anything about what I did today, if you so much as breathe a word to your fellow students, I’ll hire someone who makes fucking sure your body is never found.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Although he knew Eren had to switch his phone to flight mode Jean sent him a couple of short texts asking him to call as soon as he landed. Sometime in the middle of the night, his phone buzzed to life. He fumbled for it, knocked his glasses from the night table, cursed and pressed the phone to his ear.

 

“Hello?” He sounded groggy and croaky.

 

“Um hey, it’s me. Eren. You asked me to call you. Were you asleep?”

 

“Yeah. It’s,” he squinted at his alarm clock, “half past one.”

 

“Sorry. It took me awhile to get through passport controls and customs, and then I couldn't quite work out how to switch the phone net and data back on. I guess my brain’s still lagging a few hours behind. And… you know.”

 

“It’s okay. You sound a little better now than when you left. Could you sleep on the flight?”

 

“A little, yes. My dad picked me up, and we'll go have some breakfast before he takes me to the hospital to see my mom. He’s got to go to work after that, though.”

 

Jean felt a spike of irritation. His wife was in hospital in critical condition, his son had just came back from America, and Dr. Jaeger wouldn't even take a fucking day off?

 

As if reading his mind, Eren added: “You know he’s one of the leading medics in an institute specialized in tropical diseases. He’s reduced his working hours, but he can't just take off completely. These patients rely on him.”

 

“Yeah,” Jean agreed grudgingly. The silence dragged on for a moment, and Jean could hear the static of some thousand miles crackle in the line. “Thank you for calling. I’ll let the others know you arrived safely. If you don't mind, could we talk or text later? After you've seen your mother? I’d like to know how she is. And how you're doing.”

 

“Of course.” Eren's voice was small, laced with surprise and a hint of gratitude. “Jean...”

 

“Yes?” Eren hesitated on the other end of the line. Jean was concerned the call might have cut out. 

 

“No, it’s nothing. I'll talk to you later. Good night.”

 

“Good night,” Jean replied, hung up and instantly cursed himself because for Eren it wasn't evening or night now, it was early morning. Time zones were a bitch.

 

During the following days, they phoned and texted regularly, and from what he gathered he was the person Eren called most often, and if he was totally honest with himself it pleased him more than just a little. Sometimes he’d get a seemingly indifferent text in the evening, but the time alone betrayed Eren’s sleeplessness and worrying. Jean did his best to play along and chat about this and that, keeping the tone lighthearted to distract him.

 

Carla didn't make much progress. Her physical injuries were healing, but she remained unconscious. Eren spent nearly all his waking hours at the hospital, reading or talking to her or playing her favorite music, and helping the staff. His father would join or relieve him in the afternoons, then they would return home to takeout dinner and pretending to watch TV or read until it was time to turn in and attempt (or at least pretend to attempt) to sleep.

 

Things took a turn a week later. During the night, Jean received an excited text that Carla was awake and oriented. Eren was beside himself with joy. Although he had never spoken about it, always tried to stay positive and hopeful, deep down he had been terrified that she might never wake up, or retain loss or damage of brain functions. Now he was immensely relieved, and had to shout out in caps so as not to burst. They chatted for awhile, and Jean put his phone aside in the hope that Eren would be back ( _ home _ , his mind whispered) before soon.

 

But around lunchtime, Eren called. Sniffling and sobbing, and Jean had trouble calming him down enough so he could make some sense out of the heartbroken babbling. It appeared that Carla was still in immense pain, and struggling so much that the doctors had decided to put her into a medically induced coma.

 

“Eren, please calm down. It will save her a lot of stress, and help her recover. And it's reversible anytime, Eren, it's nothing like a real coma. She will wake up alright.”

 

Eventually, he managed to get Eren to stop crying, and made him promise to go home for once and rest a little. Throughout the afternoon and the next day, Jean messaged him to see if he was any better, but it seemed like Eren was out of reach, inconsolable, hopeless. It broke his heart to read his sluggish responses and listen to his listless, tearful voice.

 

That wasn't the Eren he knew. Sure, he’d been in shock following his mother's accident, but once he’d recovered he had done everything in his power to be there for her, willing to face every obstacle in the way. Even his father, with all his medicinal knowledge, and reassurances that this was in no way a throwback, wasn’t able to pull him out of his current funk.

 

_ Eren needs you now _ , Levi’s voice hummed in his ear. But what could he do? All he had was phone calls and chats. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. His heart was aching with the need to pull Eren into his arms and comfort him. But there were four thousand cold and lonely miles between them. Four thousand miles he’d need wings to cross.

 

Wait a minute.

 

With slow deliberation, Jean pulled his laptop from underneath a pile of unfinished homework. During Eren’s absence, he was painfully neglecting his studies, but now was not the moment to scold himself (Armin nagged him enough for two, anyway).

 

What he needed now was wings.

 

Half an hour later, Jean talked to his parents. An estimated sum of a thousand dollars for plane tickets and a week absence from college to console his stressed out boyfriend on another continent was a mighty load to dump on them.  _ Boyfriend _ was what he had told his parents that Eren was to him, and the word felt good on his tongue. They were less than pleased but eventually caved in, maybe, Jean suspected in silent irritation, because they were stunned by the fact that he actually  _ had  _ someone to call his boyfriend.

 

Afterwards, he drove over to the Ackerman place.

 

“Are you fully aware of the consequences you might face? Missed credit points, repeated classes, increased college debt?” was the first thing Levi asked after he’d laid out the situation.

 

“Yes. I’m willing to take the risk. I'm done with all my midterms, though, so hopefully it won't be too bad. But even so, I’ll deal with it.”

 

“Eren’s that important to you?”

 

“Yes,” Jean said with quiet conviction.

 

“Is that so.” Levi regarded him thoughtfully. “Have you booked your flights yet?”

 

“No, why?”

 

“Stay over Christmas. Better still, stay until New Year.”

 

“What?” Jean, Mikasa and Armin gaped. To hear a college professor suggest a student skipped nearly a three weeks of lessons was something they'd never dreamed of.

 

Levi shrugged. “I hear that your current work results leave a lot to desire anyway. So whether you're here and don't concentrate on your lessons and deliver bullshit, or if you're absent altogether, won't make much of a difference. And it would help Eren a lot. The holidays will be difficult.” He leaned back.

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to sell  _ that  _ to my professors?” Jean spat. “I can sweet talk them into a week if I'm lucky, but all the way to Christmas break?”

 

“Uncle Levi.” Mikasa turned on her full doe eye mode.

 

“Honey,” Hanji chimed in and leaned against his arm with a pout and fluttering eyelashes.

 

Levi checked his fingernails and played hard to get. “I cannot abuse my position to excuse a lovesick student.”

 

“It was your suggestion that I stay until New Year,” Jean tried.

 

“It was your own idea to neglect your studies in the first place.”

 

“Come on honey, look at the poor kid. Imagine  _ I _ was far away from you and miserable. Wouldn't you want to be there for me?” Jean had to admire Hanji - they really knew how to pull all of their husband's levers.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, alright,” Levi sighed in mock defeat, but a tiny pleased smile tugged at his lips as Hanji and Mikasa hugged and thanked him.

 

After a night of haphazardly throwing stuff into his duffel bag, thanking his lucky stars he had a valid passport and, dozing fitfully, the next morning found Jean urging Armin to squeeze a little more speed out of his wheezing old Polo.

 

“One should think that such a bleeding heart environmentalist would drive a more gas efficient car,” he grumbled.

 

Armin raised his eyebrows over his thermos mug of coffee. “Some of us can't afford to survive on principles, Jean. My heart may bleed and the exhaust may fume, but my bank account says nay. And maybe you should think twice about shit talking my car while I'm hauling your sorry ass to the airport.” He turned his attention back to the busy and sleet-covered road.

 

“Sorry. I know I´m in no position to talk. After all my set of wheels is my mom's old lime green Corolla. Whenever she feels I can borrow it.”

 

Armin chuckled. “Well, if you become a published author and disgustingly rich and famous, you can treat yourself to any flashy electric car you might fancy. Maybe then you’ll remember this starving marine oceanographist and throw me a dollar or two.”

 

“Hey, you won’t need a car when you’re freezing your nuts off with humboldt penguins in Peru.”

 

“And you’ll only dream of becoming disgustingly rich and famous and instead end up as a sad and disillusioned high school English teacher with elbow patches and a leaking biro in your breast pocket.”

 

“Yeah, probably.” Jean stared out the window with a sudden lump in his throat, because what  _ would _ he be doing with his life in a couple of years? Or rather, would Eren fit in there somewhere? The Polo tiredly sliding to a halt in front of the terminal pulled him out of his thoughts. Although it was early morning, the airport was terribly busy so he bid farewell and made his way to his gate as quickly as possible given the crowds. Now that he was on his way he couldn’t fucking wait to get to Eren.

 

The airport’s machinery sucked him in with buzzing efficiency and spat him out at into a cramped plane seat, where neither the heinous in-flight movie nor the mandatory drunkard and backrest kicking brats could do much to deter him from his growing impatience. Heading east, they met sunset around what should have been lunchtime, and a couple of hours later Jean stood in the drizzle of a German December evening, with a wallet stuffed with absurdly bright-colored Euro notes. In his hand, he clutched a slip of paper with directions to Eren’s home that a friendly lady at the info desk had supplied after he had given her the address and asked for advice. There was a bus he could take for which he was grateful, because his budget was more than modest, and a taxi ride would have taken a noticeable chunk from it.

 

It was strange and a little unsettling to be surrounded by people whose language he didn’t speak or understand. He carefully mouthed the name of the stop where he had to get off to the bus driver and handed him one of the smaller bank notes, pocketed the change and prayed that no one would try to strike up a conversation with him. 

 

He also prayed that the hammering of his heart wouldn’t drown out the announcing of the bus stops. But all went well, and he even found his way through the winding labyrinth that was the Jaegers’ neighborhood until he stood in front of a dark sixties-style bungalow. The rain was pouring now and only adding to the gloomy atmosphere. All the front gardens were finically separated from the sidewalk by trimmed hedges, fences and walls, and Jean couldn’t help but think that it was no wonder the Berlin wall had lasted nearly 40 years in a nation that was so fond of boundaries.

 

The house was clearly empty, but he rang the doorbell nevertheless. As expected, no one answered. Jean retreated under the canopy as far as possible and settled to wait, since he was out of options anyway. He passed the time in amusing himself with Eren’s possible reactions, when a sudden thought made him shiver.

 

His presence could only explained in one way - that they were lovers, boyfriends, anything that allowed the familiarity of his flying across the ocean without so much as a word. What he hadn’t taken into account was whether Eren had told his father about Jean.

 

And what if… what if Eren hadn’t even come out to his parents? Jean felt like kicking himself. Dr. Jaeger may have no idea who Jean was, may even be oblivious to the fact that his son was gay. Eren had always be so open about his orientation, but that could have been because he felt safe in America, away from his family.

 

Jean suddenly felt nauseous, and he had just made up his mind that he’d go and look for a hotel room and call Eren first before turning up on his doorstep, when the headlights of a car approached, sweeped across the house, and the accompanying car pulled into the driveway and disappeared underneath the carport. Too late to flee and hide now, and Jean conjured up some half-assed excuses (“Ahaha yes I have this terribly one-sided and unrequited crush on your son, Dr. Jaeger”) while expecting to get either strangled or chased away by Eren.

 

Eren, in fact, did neither.

 

He jumped out of the car before it even came to a full stop, raced across the lawn and flung himself into Jean’s arms, without any hesitation or reservation.

 

“Thank fuck you’re here, I missed you,” he muttered against Jean’s lips, who had difficulty giving him just a brief peck and then prying himself loose in favor of greeting Dr. Jaeger - he wasn’t sure if introducing himself with his tongue shoved down Eren’s throat was an entirely good idea.

 

Dr. Jaeger followed more slowly and with a hint of amusement on his features.

 

“So you must be the famous Jean,” he said and extended a hand. “When we are not talking about Carla, Eren talks about you.” His accent was a lot thicker than Eren’s, his  _ th _ leaning lightly towards the infamous  _ z _ and the  _ w _ towards the  _ v _ , and he sounded as formal as a textbook. But despite his stilted language his smile was warm and genuine and his handshake firm, while Eren blushed and hissed something in German that undoubtedly meant something like: “Shut up, dad.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr .Jaeger. I, um, I’m sorry for intruding on you like this, but I was so worried about Eren, and I, um, I can always take a room or something -”

 

Dr. Jaeger cut him off with a hand gesture. “No Jean, you are not intruding. I am happy you are here, I’m sure it will be good for Eren. Please, come in and make yourself at home.” He unlocked the front door and ushered the boys inside.

 

They all took off their coats and shoes, and Jean was offered a spare pair of felt slippers which were intended for guests. Then Eren took his duffel bag to his room and gave him a quick tour of the house while Dr. Jaeger ordered a couple of pizzas.

 

The bungalow was spacious and cozy, with upscale furniture and carpets that were neither modern nor old-fashioned. Things were chosen rather for comfort and durability than flashy looks, and the wooden floors and the leather couch were well worn. Souvenirs from Dr. Jaeger’s many travels were all over the place, most of them functional in one way or another - fruit bowls and flower vases, rugs and blankets set cheerful highlights.

 

Still, overall Jean sensed an atmosphere of recent neglect. It was visible in the dust on the book shelves and the withering plants, the haphazardly cleaned kitchen and the pile of takeout cartons in the trash.

 

Dr. Jaeger had set the kitchen table and dug out a bottle of red wine, from which he was pouring the ruby liquid into three glasses as Eren and Jean came in. “It’s only delivery pizza, but it will feel more like a restaurant meal like this,” he stated, corking the bottle. “Besides, we must toast to our guest.”

 

Jean eyed the wine glasses warily, and Dr. Jaeger misinterpreted his look. “Oh I’m sorry, don’t you like wine?”

 

Eren chuckled. “Papa… in America you’re only legal to drink alcohol at twenty-one.” He turned to Jean. “Sorry about that, Jean. Here, you can drink beer and wine at sixteen, and hard liquor at eighteen. I think if you’re with your parents, you can drink beer and wine even earlier than that. Either way, feel free to decline. We have water, cola, juice, you name it.”

 

“Yeah, I’d rather pass,” Jean said gratefully, and Eren got him a glass of water instead.

 

When the pizza arrived, Jean poked it with his fork. “Are you sure this is okay?”

 

“Yeah, in Europe it’s mostly done with a thin crust,” Eren forced around his mouthful of food. Jean shut up because he didn't want to appear as the nagging know-it-all, and indeed it tasted surprisingly good.

 

They talked about Carla during the meal, and Jean noticed Eren scooting close and tensing up against his side, and he gently squeezed his arm. As Jean had already suspected, they hadn’t knocked Carla out completely, only sedated her so she was still aware of her surroundings, even if she couldn't react or communicate. Her vitals were stable and indicated that her body was mending as intended. Dr. Jaeger was optimistic. Now, in the well lit kitchen, Jean could see his features clearly and could make out the worry lines and the dark shadows under his eyes. Eren didn't look much better. He had lost weight and had a haunted look in his eyes that Jean didn't like. The last weeks hadn't treated them kindly.  _ Without Carla, Grisha ain't worth shit _ , Jean heard Levi say, and he gripped his fork tighter. One way or the other, he was going to ease their burden.

 

After dinner, Eren and his father cleared up the dishes. They conversed a little in German, seemingly coming to an agreement after a short discussion. Afterwards Dr. Jaeger excused himself to catch up on paperwork, welcomed Jean into his home again and assured him the whole house what at his disposal.

 

Eren yawned and draped himself over Jean's shoulders. “Let’s go to my room. I need a cuddle now more than I ever needed anything in my life.”

 

Ever since Jean had turned up at his doorstep, it was as if a switch had been flicked in Eren, and Jean would be damned if he ever denied this adorably defenseless and vulnerable person anything. So he let himself be dragged to his room, where Eren tugged him down on the bed and curled up against him as close as he could possibly get. Jean wrapped his arms around him and combed his fingers through Eren’s lusterless hair.

 

“Eren… I'm sorry for just turning up out of the blue. But I couldn't bear being so far away and seeing you fall apart. I hope I can make things a little easier for you.”

 

“Oh, that’s right.” Eren pulled back a little and smiled faintly. “I was so happy you came here that I never asked why you did.”

 

“That. Um.” Jean swallowed around the lump in his throat, tried to ignore his heart beating hard against his ribs and soldiered on. “Because I care about you. And I'm done pretending that I don’t.” He brushed the bangs from Eren's forehead and planted a soft kiss there. Eren let out a shuddery breath and buried himself even deeper in his embrace.

 

“So you… you care about me,” he muttered somewhere against Jean's neck.

 

“I do. A lot.”

 

A tiny pause, then: “I like you, Jean.” Instead of an answer, Jean just squeezed him tight.

 

“So… you don't think I'm an insufferable asshole?” He tried to make his voice sound small, but Jean could hear the smile hiding in there.

 

“You  _ are  _ an insufferable asshole. But you're  _ my  _ insufferable asshole,” Jean drawled, relishing Eren’s happy giggle. This was the first time he had seen the other genuinely smile in weeks, and his heart skipped a little. Finally, things felt right between them. It wouldn't have been like them to stop bantering and going all soft and lovey-dovey on each other, but the secure feeling that there was mutual affection underneath warmed him from deep within.

 

Eren leaned up to kiss him, slow and sweet, and Jean took his time sliding his tongue against Eren's, tasting the traces of wine, and despite everything they had done physically over the last months, this was the most intimate and sensual moment they had ever shared.

 

They snuggled and kissed for a while until Eren’s eyelids started to droop, and Jean hated disrupting the moment, but he didn't want to fall asleep in his bed uninvited.

 

“Hey. Do you have some blankets or something so I can sleep on the couch?”

 

“Hm?” Eren raised on eyelid. “What's that about all of a sudden? You're sleeping here.”

 

“But I, um… your father…”

 

“He’s cool with it. We talked about it earlier and he asked if he should prepare the guest room for you, but I want you to stay here. Please?”

 

“Okay.” Jean pecked his lips. “But you’ll wash and brush your teeth first. I’m not sleeping next to some filthy skunk.”

 

“Who are you calling a skunk, you reek like a fucking polecat yourself,” Eren instantly bristled and grudgingly dragged himself to the bathroom, moaning and griping at the injustice of it all. Afterwards he dived right underneath the covers and left Jean to his own devices.

 

He hunted down some spare towels, showered and dressed in a clean t-shirt and shorts, and shoved his fast asleep boyfriend to the other side of the bed so he would fit in. As soon as he settled down, Eren draped himself all over him and continued snoring softly. Jean couldn't sleep right away, the time difference still tugging at him, so he pulled out his phone and texted his parents and friends until he felt his eyes go heavy.

 

He awoke to the smell of coffee and Eren still dead to the world. Deciding he didn't want to face his boyfriend’s father in pj's first thing in the morning, he groped for some clothes and headed out in search for the source of the delicious smell.

 

Dr. Jaeger was nowhere to be seen, but a thermos full of piping hot coffee and a paper bag of fresh bread rolls sat on the kitchen counter, along with a handwritten note. Jean took out two mugs, poured coffee and balanced them back to Eren's room. He set the coffee on the nightstand, pulled up the blinds and opened the window. Then he climbed back into the warmth of the bed and nudged Eren awake.

 

“Morning, sunshine. Here, have some coffee.”

 

“Coffee?” Eren sat up and leaned against the headboard, a yawn splitting his face and his hair standing in all directions. “Thanks. Did you make it?”

 

“No, your dad did. He also left some bread rolls. And here's a note.”

 

Sipping coffee, Eren studied it. “He’s already at the institute. Wishes us a nice day and  _ guten Appetit _ .” He yawned again and glanced at the clock. “Jeez, I can't even remember the last time I slept that well and long. After breakfast, I should head to the hospital.” Suddenly, he seemed to remember something and bit his lip. “Jean -”

 

“If you don't mind, I'd rather stay here. Don't worry, I'll find something to pass the time.”

 

“Really? But -”

 

“Shhh, it's okay.” Jean leaned forward to kiss him. “I’m here for you, not the other way round. You don't need to entertain me, or cut on your time with your mother.”

 

Eren rested his head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Jean.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

German breakfast was a strange affair. Eren put the bread rolls into a small basket, then produced two small Formica boards from a drawer, which were apparently to be used instead of plates, then dug salami, ham and cheese from the fridge and butter, jam and honey from a cupboard. Pouring some fresh coffee, he seemed satisfied and settled down at the table.

 

“Your breakfast usually like this?” Jean asked, cutting open his bread roll.

 

“No,” Eren munched, “on weekdays, it's usually bread. Bread rolls are for weekends.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

Eren shrugged. “Some people have cereal or muesli. We don't go around making waffles or pancakes in the dead of night.”

 

Jean was horrified. Nothing but plain sandwiches or sandwich rolls for breakfast? He had always assumed that “continental breakfast” was a cruel hotel joke. How did a whole nation survive on this?

 

Eren regarded him with amusement. “Most people eat a snack mid-morning.”

 

“Thank fuck I’m not expected to make this last until lunchtime.”

 

After Eren was gone, Jean was left to ponder. As he emptied the thermos, his gaze fell on the withering potted plants on the windowsill and the scattered dead leaves. Maybe it was intruding, but he could make himself useful in turning the house back into something that Carla would be happy to return to. He rolled up his sleeves.

 

Two hours later, he was tired but satisfied. Not only had he managed to scrub the kitchen top to bottom using liquids from bottles he couldn’t make sense of, he’d also taken out the trash, which turned out to be a task on its own. There was not one, but four trash cans lined up at the side of the house. Blue appeared to be for paper, yellow for recyclables like plastic and cans. Brown was organic waste and grey other household waste. Furthermore, there was a plastic container for glass.

 

Now, his stomach was rumbling. He thought about how thin and pale Eren had looked, how haggard his father, and decided to treat them to a home-cooked dinner. He wasn't terribly good at cooking, but had watched and helped his mother often enough he could prepare some simple dishes. A quick search on his phone came up with a supermarket in walking distance, and he was secretly glad it wasn't some corner shop where he’d have to converse with the cashier. He pulled on his coat, took the key Eren had left him, and headed out.

 

Jean made a round through the shop, estimating prices for meat and vegetables, and settled for a cowboy pie, and a fruit salad for dessert. Meat was served at a counter, but there was also a row of refrigerators for self service. He loaded everything on the conveyor belt, paid and was then faced with the problem of how to get the groceries home, for he wasn't given any bags, and now that he paid attention to it, most people seemed to have baskets or hessian bags with them. The cashier, noticing his confusion, pointed to a shelf underneath the belt that held a variety of linen, plastic and paper bags. He retrieved and paid the small sum for two plastic bags, smiling and nodding at the good-humored teasing of the cashier and other customers, and hurried back to the Jaeger residence.

 

Jean felt oddly domestic as he heard keys turn the lock of the front door that evening, and greeted Eren and his father in a kitchen that was all spick and span and filled with the mouthwatering aroma of homemade pie. Both men looked so exhilarated at the prospect of a decent meal that it was worth all the effort (and the odd burns on his finger or two).

 

“Really, you don’t need to do that,” Dr. Jaeger stated over and over, but Jean shrugged it off.

 

“You have so much to worry about, and this is the least I can do for butting in on you. Really, I like helping out. Besides, I’d do anything to see Eren happy,” he blurted out before he could snap his mouth shut.

 

Eren blushed, but Dr. Jaeger didn’t seem to be in the least disturbed or displeased. He just smiled at them fondly and dug into his plate full of minced meat, corn, potato and cheese. They annihilated the whole pan, along with the side salad, and shortly later only a spoon full of juice and grapes bore witness of the fruit salad. They rubbed their tummies and groaned happily.

 

“Damn, I could return to this any day,” Eren sighed happily.

 

“What, me playing house for you? Forget it. This is a special situation. First thing tomorrow morning, you’ll scrub the bathroom,” Jean hissed, but he couldn’t help the little bubble of happiness in his chest.

 

Jean soon found out that father and son Jaeger were all too happy to comply as he bossed them around the house with dusters and mops. Grocery shopping and cooking became a thing again, and they found the clean and cozy atmosphere of the house lifting their spirits.

 

The next good news was that Carla was to be raised from the artificial coma again. Her responses so far to the regular intervals of wakefulness were good, so her doctors were optimistic that the worst was over.

 

Eren was so happy that on the night of hearing the news, he initiated sex for the first time since Jean had arrived. So far all he wanted, all he needed was cuddling, and Jean had followed his lead, but he certainly didn’t complain that the dry spell was finally over. 

 

It was so different from their hitherto energy-driven fucking, slow and gentle but yet so intense that Jean thought his heart must surely overflow with emotion. As Eren grasped his hands and moved impossibly deep inside of him with an awestruck face, he had a first glimpse at what it was like to truly give yourself to each other.

 

Later, Eren lay by his side, curled up, looking every bit as overwhelmed as Jean felt. They didn’t say anything, just shyly threaded their fingers together and fell asleep like that.

 

**********

 

Carla, awake and alert, demanded to see the miracle man who had gotten her husband and son to take care of the household.

 

“Clearly he must have something I lacked all these years,” she declared after incredulously listening to their recounts of how the house was immaculate and just awaiting her return. “I expected nothing less than a pigsty from you two.”

 

So on his next visit, Eren took Jean to meet his mother. She looked incredibly pale and thin in the large hospital bed, thankfully devoid of any tubes and wires but still in heavy casts and bandages. She had beautiful long, dark hair, the same color as Eren’s, but a side of her skull was partially shaved, and the hair looked matt and lank due to the dry shampoo the staff had had to use on her.

 

But her eyes were alive and sharp, and around her mouth Jean could detect the same determined set that Eren had. Jean wanted to politely shake her hand, already having gotten used to the Germans’ disinclination to hug or kiss for greeting, but she pulled him down into a tight hug anyway.

 

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

 

After this, they had to sit down and tell her everything about college and their friends and their relationship (they skimmed as vaguely as they could through the last subject and squirmed at every question), and Carla needed to know how exactly Jean had gotten to Germany in the first place and what he’d done so far.

 

She reached out and pulled her son’s ear and scolded him for letting a guest do all the work in their house, in the same breath apologizing to Jean and inviting him to be welcome in their home at any time and for however long he wished, once she was out of this darn hospital. Then she offered Jean to call her by her first name.

 

Jean liked Carla enormously.

 

With Christmas drawing near, Dr. Jaeger - Grisha, as Jean was now to call him- retrieved box after box of decorations from the garage and purchased a lovely caucasian fir. Now it was Jean’s turn to feel a little low. He loved being with Eren, he liked the Jaegers, but he’d never been away from home for Christmas. This time, it was Eren who picked him up, turning up the volume of the radio playing upbeat music, making a Laokoon out of himself with the fairy lights, stuffing his boyfriend with cookie dough. They decorated the tree with ball ornaments and tiny glass birds and wooden figurines, they put up a gigantic Christmas pyramid in which tiny figures ran in endless circles when you attached and lit candles whose heat made the propeller on top spin. They carefully unwrapped an old nativity scene, and Jean marvelled how putting the worn and aged shepherds in the shed made Eren’s cheeks glow in childlike joy. There was fretwork and straw stars to hang in the windows, many of them obviously done by little Eren’s clumsy hands long ago, lovingly kept by his parents and unpacked year after year. Most of all, Jean admired the large collection of  _ Räuchermännchen _ , prim figures that looked like miners, salesmen, policemen or cooks, whose hollow body would hold incense cones which made them smoke out of their mouths.

 

Carla insisted that they don’t waste their time at her hospital bed but instead go out and about and have some fun, so they went ice skating and to a Christmas market, and Jean tried his first  _ Glühwein _ ever. It was hot, sweet and full of delicious spices, and he noticed too late that it warmed your feet but effectively glued them to the spot. The way home was long and arduous, and Eren teasing him for being such a lightweight did nothing to lift his mood.

 

Gifts were exchanged on Christmas Eve, and the Jaegers plus Jean gathered in Carla’s hospital room with what looked like half a truck load of cookies,  _ Stollen _ ,  _ Lebkuchen _ and coffee and tea. Eren had gotten Jean his very own Räuchermännchen - a writer sitting at his desk, surrounded by book piles and scribbling on a long script roll. Jean gave Eren a cookbook for beginners and promised to teach him. Carla and Grisha payed for Eren’s and Jean’s plane tickets, something that made Jean sigh with relief. He had sacrificed the money gladly for Eren’s sake, but it still would have been a painful addition to his student loan.

 

Later, at home, the boys snuggled up in the living room, content in sipping tea and watching the lights twinkle in the Christmas tree.

 

“I could get used to this,” Jean heard himself say, and Eren went very still.

 

“Is that a proposal?”

 

Jean smiled and kissed his cheek. “Take it as whatever you want. I thought that spending the holidays away from my friends and family would be miserable, but so far it’s one of the nicest I ever had.”

 

“Oh, we only just got started,” Eren hummed and rested his head against Jean’s chest.

 

On Christmas day they tackled a roast beef, and it was a narrow win for the three men, but they high fived nevertheless as it came out of the oven rosy and tasty, and discreetly neglected to mention the charcoaled vegetables. 

 

In the afternoon, they visited Carla again, and this time Grisha carried his notebook with him. All together, they Skyped the Ackermans, hospital restrictions about mobile devices be damned.

 

In America, it was still morning, but Levi, Hanji and Mikasa gathered around Levi’s computer nonetheless, all in festive attire. Well. If you wanted to call Christmas sweaters in clashing colors and headpieces with blinking lights festive, that is. Levi proudly picked up the webcam and showed them around the house, which was so heavily decorated you could hardly make out the walls and furniture. It looked like something out of the Grinch’s worst nightmare. Maybe it had to do with Christmas being Levi’s own birthday, but he was the worst holiday nut ever. Garlands? Check. Blinking lights? Check. Glitter, giant plastic figures and mountains of gift boxes? Check, check and check. Even the curtains, throw pillows and kitchen towels would be replaced and display reindeers, mistletoe and snowmen.

 

After they ended the call, Eren told Jean how he was shocked into silence the first time they had Skyped for Christmas. Since his childhood, the two families would regularly call up and exchange letters and cards, and while it certainly had been thrilling to see each others’  faces, Levi’s holiday kitsch fest was something else. No one who saw his demeanor, the immaculate boring suits, the permanent scowl, would guess that the man was such a child at heart, and so soft-natured towards his family and friends.

 

“Mikasa was stunning, though,” Eren added as an afterthought.

 

Jealousy spiked up in Jean. “I thought you said you didn’t crush on her.”

 

Eren rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. But you must admit that she’s gorgeous. I may be gay as fuck but I’m not blind.”

 

Jean relaxed a little, and a devilish smirk spread on Eren’s face. “But I may or may not have thought that Armin was cute.” He laughed at Jean’s indignant face. “Oh my god, look at you. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of teasing you.” He kissed his boyfriend’s scowl away. “Merry Christmas, you dork.”

 

**********

 

_ Ten years later _

 

“Hanji? Hanji! Where the fuck are all my cufflinks gone?”

 

“I think little Kuchel took them for her dolls’ dresses, honey,” their voice drifted from the kitchen.

 

“Kuchel? Where are you? Have you - oh, there you are.”

 

Mikasa’s daughter stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her dolls clutched to her chest. She looked clearly alarmed at his cussing and shoved her lower lip out in an anxious pout. “I’m sorry, uncle Levi. They look so pretty. Are you mad at me?”

 

He bent down to ruffle her hair. “Of course not, sweetheart. Just ask me next time, okay? Can I have one pair for my shirt? I need to be properly dressed for work.”

 

She beamed and nodded, threw her dolls on the bed and carefully selected a pair of cufflinks. Then she watched as he clipped them to his shirt cuffs and smoothed the sleeves.

 

“You always look so neat, uncle Levi.” She knitted her brows together in thought. “But you say a lot of nasty words. Santa doesn’t like nasty words. You should be careful or else Santa won’t bring you any presents.”

 

“Oh, Santa will be much too busy carrying all the presents for you and your little brother anyway.”

 

Kuchel giggled. “Yes. I want lots and lots of presents!”

 

Levi winked at her. “Okay, we’ll better both be good then and help your auncle with breakfast.”

 

She slipped her small hand into his, and together they walked to the kitchen. Hanji was busy flipping pancakes single-handedly, baby Kenny propped on their other arm and fast asleep. Levi pulled a burp cloth from a drawer, flicked it over his shoulder and expertly relieved Hanji from the sleeping infant.

 

“Kuchel, there’s a postcard from mom and dad.” Hanji indicated to the card depicting some tropical island that leaned against the girl’s milk glass. Armin and Mikasa had just video called yesterday, as they did most days, but they sent postcards as often as they could. The Ackermans’ kitchen wall was covered in bright panoramas from all over the world. Mikasa and Armin tried to avoid going on expeditions simultaneously since they had kids, but the scientific world had its requirements. One day Kuchel and Kenny would be old enough to accompany them, but until then Levi and Hanji were all too happy to take the kids in.

 

While Kuchel mopped up unholy amounts of syrup with her pancakes, Levi used the quiet to tell Hanji about Eren’s phone call he had received earlier while they were busy with the kids.

 

“Seems he and Jean are both free over the holidays.”

 

“Hm hm,” Hanji hummed noncommittally and stirred their coffee.

 

“And the kids never had a Christmas in the States.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“So Eren and Jean and Hannah and Mina are planning to come over.”

 

Hanji gave up trying to play the uninterested part. “They’re coming here? For Christmas?”

 

Levi leaned closer. “And without their children and grandchildren, Grisha and Carla would have terribly lonely holidays, wouldn’t they?”

 

Hanji beamed. “They’re all coming here? All of them? And Mikasa and Armin will be free too. Oh, it will be so lovely!”

 

“Yes, yes, we will have to sleep in shifts and give out bathroom passes, wonderful. Four children high on sugar canes and presents, and… hold on… eight adults. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the Kirsteins and Armin’s grandpa will want to pay a visit, too. This place will be more crowded than fucking Disneyland.”

 

Levi sounded bugged, but Hanji didn’t let themselves be fooled. He would adore having everybody around him for a round of whacky Ackerman holidays. They reached for his hand with a warm smile. “We have found such good friends and family, haven’t we?”

 

He gave up his facade and smiled back. “The best.”

 

***********

 

“And, what did they say?”

 

“I got Levi on the phone. You know him. He acted as if having us over would be the worst thing to ever happen to him. But when I mentioned that in this case we could visit your parents instead, he cut me right off.” Eren smiled. “Jean… are you really okay with staying at Levi’s and Hanji’s home?”

 

Jean shrugged. “We can see my parents anytime, and we have way more space there. Good thing the Ackermans keep that downstairs apartment for the family to crash in.”

 

“Noo,” Eren rolled his eyes, “it’s not that they’re keeping it furnished or everything for us, or for Kasa and Armin. It’s only because Levi hasn’t found the right tenant yet.”

 

They both laughed a little. Then Eren slung an arm around his husband’s waist. “Don’t you miss your home?”

 

Jean nuzzled his neck. “You are my home.”

 

Soon after his first visit to Germany Jean had started to learn German, not exactly because he planned to move there with Eren but because he wanted to share more with him. It had taken them many debates, denial and self-denial before they finally figured out they wanted to spend their lives together. Upon finishing his education, Jean had taken up a job as English teacher in an international high school in Munich, and to his endless delight he actually had to ward off admirers who thought his American accent sexy (“Damn, I should have known that before I got stuck with you.” “Dream on babe, as soon as they heard you whinny when you cum they would be gone anyway.” “Shut your trap, Jaeger.”). Eren had found a job as translator and did what he’d dreamed of doing - he translated novels and poetry. In his spare time, he took first hesitant steps in writing his own poetry and prose. 

 

Using every loophole in German legislation, he adopted  fraternal twins, Hannah and Mina, and after that he and Jean entered a registered life partnership. This way, Jean could adopt the girls successively. It pained them that they couldn't legally marry and had to take such detours to become a family, but with their combined stubbornness and determination they fought tooth and nail for their dreams.

 

Sometimes, Jean had to pinch his arm to convince himself that it was all real, that he wasn’t dreaming a cheesy romance story. But it was real, it all was, from Hannah’s blond braids to Mina’s freckled grin, from the wedding band on his finger to his husband scattering wet towels over the bathroom floor. Yes, there were things he missed. He missed Dairy Queen and Wendy ' s (and secretly Chuck E. Cheese's), the big malls and endless highways. But it was nothing compared to the happiness he had found.

 

“Jeez, you’re such a sap.” There wasn’t any venom in Eren’s voice. “It will be great, all of us together. Maybe we can hunt down Historia and Ymir, and Sasha and Connie. Just like the old days, only with more wrinkles and a bunch of noisy kids.”

 

“Wrinkles? Talk for yourself, baby,” Jean said, patting his own face.

 

“Tssk. I’ve seen that anti-aging-lotion you’re trying to hide from me. Soon you’ll be a bald old codger with a wrinkly nutsack.”

 

The doorbell interrupted Jean’s backlash. It was the parcel deliveryman, and Eren literally flew to the door.

 

“Oh my god oh my god, it’s here, it’s real!” He yelled, racing around the house with the parcel raised high over his head. Jean got a knife from the rack, and they tore into the box impatiently.

 

It was the free exemplars of Eren’s first book of his own poems. With trembling fingers, he retrieved one of the small format hardcover books. His name was on it, and the title  - “Over the Mariana Trench”. Jean took a book in his hands as well and admired it from all sides.

 

“Open it up - there's a devotement,”  Eren said quietly, and Jean felt his heart leap into his throat. He flicked to the first page behind the title.

 

_ “To Jean, my love - I have fallen and I can't giddyup.” _

 

His view swam, and he heard Eren giggle maniacally. He clenched his jaw. 

 

“Eren.”

 

“Yes, baby? “

 

“Run. Run for your life because when I get you I swear to fuck -”

 

Laughing and whooping, they tore out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guten Appetit: enjoy your meal
> 
> Räuchermännchen: Wikipedia says: “...a cone incense is set on first, then put on the lower part of the bifid wood figurine. The upper part is hollowed out and put on top of the first part. The cone incense burns down inside of the hollow figurine, the smoke leaving the mouth hole of the Räuchermann.”
> 
> Glühwein: hot, spiced wine / mulled wine
> 
> Stollen: traditional German fruit bread with dried or candied fruit, often containing nuts and orange or lemon zest and spices, covered with powdered sugar. There is a great number of regional varieties.
> 
> Lebkuchen: a baked treat, similar to gingerbread. It has a relatively soft consistence and is often covered in icing sugar or chocolate. Usually set and baked on a thin wafer (“Oblate”)

**Author's Note:**

> There are no gender neutral terms for a parent's siblings. After browsing the net for input (and some really heartwarming stories) I settled for auncle, a mix of aunt and uncle, because I thought that might be a word that considerate 10 year old Mikasa would come up with for Hanji.
> 
> Excerpt from William Tell, drama by Friedrich Schiller, as translated by Theodore Martin  
> [gutenberg.org](http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2782/pg2782.html)
> 
> Poem “Sonnet 6” by Edmund Spenser, as translated by Joseph von Hammer  
> [deutsche-liebeslyrik.de](http://www.deutsche-liebeslyrik.de/europaische_liebeslyrik/edmund_spenser_hammer_purgstall.htm)
> 
> You can find my SNK and personal blog under [glassesgirl0401](http://glassesgirl0401.tumblr.com)


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